Professor Lupin
by ssvensson429
Summary: Remus avoids taking on the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor; that is, until he fears for Harry's safety. How Prof. Lupin came to be on the Hogwarts Express, and what he did when he got there that we never saw. Snippets of PoA that fill in some of the gaps. Insinuated RL/SB but few mature themes. Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine.
1. Chapter 1

**June 15, 1989**

* * *

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_Hogwarts has yet again found herself without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. During all of your years you were a phenomenal student in this area, and I believe you would have much to teach the students. Please consider accepting the position, and I hope to see you in September._

_All the best,_

_Albus Dumbledore _

* * *

**June 16, 1989**

* * *

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_While I appreciate your thinking of me for the position, I am afraid I am far too busy here in Yorkshire. I wish you the best of luck in finding your new professor and do give Poppy my best._

_Sincerely,_

_Remus Lupin_

* * *

**June 7, 1990**

* * *

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_Hogwarts has yet __again__ found herself without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. While I understand you may be otherwise occupied, I firmly believe you would be an excellent professor. Please consider accepting the position, and I hope to see you in September._

_All the best,_

_Albus _

* * *

**_June 11, 1990_**

* * *

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Once again, I regret to inform you that I will not be able to accept your offer of employment. Apologies for the delay in response—I was in fact otherwise occupied. Please consider asking someone else if they are interested in the position._

_Sincerely, _

_Remus_

* * *

**May 20, 1991**

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_I am sure by now you know the purpose of my letter. I implore you to accept this offer of employment. As you may know, young Harry Potter is beginning his tenure at Hogwarts. He is as bright and kind as his mother, and as clever and loyal as his father. I have no doubt that you would find him extraordinary, and I believe he would benefit greatly from having you as a professor—occupations aside. He could always use a family friend looking after him._

_All the best,_

_Albus _

* * *

**May 21, 1991**

* * *

_Dear Albus,_

_I am greatly excited for Harry to begin his journey at Hogwarts. Those years were truly the best of my life, and I have no doubt he embodies the values his parents would have wanted him to have. Unfortunately, I am far too busy here in Yorkshire and I am sure he will do just fine without me._

_-Remus_

* * *

**June 20, 1992**

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_You of course must realize why I write this letter. I urge you to accept the position of Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry could use a professor who will teach him the skills he needs to defend himself from the evil he is sure to face. James always told me you were the cleverest of your group of friends—please consider helping his son. Attached is a present I believe James gave you during your time in school: use it wisely._

_All the best,_

_Albus_

* * *

**June 21, 1992**

* * *

_I will not be guilted into taking the position of Professor. James knew very well why I refused to teach, and nothing has changed in that regard. If he did tell you I was clever, then you should know I'm not daft: the D.A.D.A. position is clearly impossible to fill, and I now believe the rumors to be true. How, then, if I am such a suitable teacher, could I expect to vacate the position in a year? I think you and I both know what would happen if I came to teach this year._

_Thank you for the gift. It does bring back fond memories of tutoring my friends._

_-Remus_

* * *

**August 15, 1993**

* * *

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Attached is my current resumé and a letter of recommendation from my most recent employer, a Mr. Steven Bishop of Yorkshire Fish and Chips. I apologize for the vagueness of the letter—Mr. Bishop believes I am applying to work as a substitute teacher at a local muggle school. I would relish the opportunity to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, assuming the position has not already been filled._

_Harry needs all the protection he can get at this time. As you are aware, I knew Mr. Black very well once and believe that I could offer a useful perspective in aiding his eventual re-capture. I apologize for my last letter to you—I was particularly sour, and it was uncalled for. _

_Thank you for this opportunity,_

_Remus J. Lupin _

* * *

**August 15, 1993**

* * *

_Dear Professor Lupin,_

_Congratulations! I am pleased to offer you the position of Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Enclosed you will find train tickets pre-paid for arrival and departure this term; I believe it would be best for young Harry to have some apt protection on the trains to and from Hogwarts. _

_While here, staff who are not already aware will be informed on your condition. As such, I expect your discretion with the students. Additionally, our potions master is quite adept and has agreed to make a potion to help with your condition, so as to minimize the classes you will be unable to teach. Please let me know if you have any questions, and I look forward to seeing you in September. _

_Thank you,_

_Albus. _

* * *

Roughly two weeks later, Remus arrived in London's King Cross Station from his home in Yorkshire. He had instructed his neighbor, an elderly widow (and squib) by the name of Rose O'Connor to keep a watch on the place. He knew he would need to return.

_You've done this before, _a voice in his head reminded Remus. _It's no different_. Only, Remus hadn't been at platform 9 and ¾ in many, many years. The last time he had left for Hogwarts, his mum and dad were both alive. His _friends_ were alive. His _boyfriend_ hadn't been responsible for their deaths. He was Moony back then. _Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_, he thought bitterly. He no longer counted Sirius as being truly alive. How ironic that he was the last one left, given his life-threatening condition.

The night prior had been a full moon, and Remus was utterly exhausted. Still, the potion he had been so…_kindly given_ by Snape had helped immensely, and Remus was feeling much more confident on his ability to teach throughout the year. Still, he knew as soon as he sat down on the train, he'd be out. Remus looked down at his wrist, half expecting to see a watch before realizing he no longer had one. Luckily, the clock on the wall told him everything he needed to know: the train would be arriving momentarily. Remus clutched his briefcase, holding it close. If only his friends could see him now—Professor Lupin, at last. It had been a running joke for who knows how long, but one Christmas James bought him his monogrammed case. At first, Remus was annoyed. He had told his friends he would never be able to be a teacher, but they never understood: if Dumbledore let him be a student, what difference did it make the other way around? As it turned out, they were right. After years of evading the job, Remus hadn't a choice. He simply knew too much about Sirius Black to stay at home.

Black was clearly going to go after Harry—that much was obvious. Remus recalled how happy Sirius had been when he was named Harry's godfather:

_"Can you believe it Moony? Me, a godfather?" Sirius asked incredulously. Remus rolled his eyes._

_"Nah, mate. You're sure James said _Sirius_ and not Peter?" The werewolf asked with a smirk. _

_"Please. Besides, he knew naming me godfather would make you one as well."_

Remus nearly shuddered at the memory of how close he and Black had been. He felt guilty—it was his fault that 'Padfoot' was born, and Remus had an inkling it was how he was able to get past the Dementors, which meant the school wasn't as safe as Dumbledore thought. Remus knew he had to get his hands on that blasted map he had made and quickly too, before anyone found out its existence. _It's my fault the castle isn't safe for Harry_, he thought rather morosely. _Great step-godfather I made._

At that moment, the whistle of the train grew louder and louder. Soon enough, the Hogwarts Express pulled up to the station. Remus felt the whole in his heart grow somewhat larger in that moment. It was easy to forget what had been while he had worked dead-end jobs—mostly in the muggle world. In fact, other than his monthly transformations, Remus felt more connection to his muggle mother and her life than anything else. It was only over tea with his father the previous week had he begun to awaken the magical side in him once again. Remus was hesitant to visit Mr. Lyall Lupin often, as he felt like he disturbed his father's peaceful life. But he knew Lyall would want to know about his new position. Remus remembered the conversation well.

_Lyall beamed. His son, a professor at Hogwarts! It was more than he could have ever imagined. _

_"Remus, I am so…_comment dit-on_...proud of you," His father had told him. As he got older, the senior Lupin would forget more of his English, or at least, pretend to. Remus always knew his father had wanted him to learn more French. Remus smiled._

_"_Merci_, Papa. It's certainly more than I pictured for myself," Remus said with a smile, knowing that he would eventually be having to explain to his father why the position had only lasted a year. "I'm hoping to be helpful. For Harry, for the others, to keep them safe from him," Remus added. Lyall's smile faded._

_"I heard on the news. I still can't believe it. He was such a kind boy, your mother adored him too." Lyall smiled softly. "He truly loved you, Remus. Have you ever considered—"_

_"—that _he didn't do it_?" Remus snapped. "I tried that. It hurt worse, to imagine him innocent; locked in there, deserted by the man he loved…At least this way I could get over him."_

Was Remus over Sirius Black? It was hard to tell. There were some weeks where he wouldn't think once about the man he once loved. If he was lucky, Remus could go a month without something reminding him of that floppy-haired pureblood. But now, thoughts of Sirius clouded Remus' mind every hour. Where he was, why he had turned on the Potters, and what Remus would do to stand up to him. But worse were the memories of what had been. Going to Hogwarts, the place they had fallen in love, made it all the more difficult for Remus to tell if he truly hated Sirius Black or not. After all, how do you hate a man who loved you in spite of everything you hated about yourself—no, in fact, loved you _including_ all those things, big or small?

The train had stopped, and Remus got on to search for a compartment. He'd want something quiet—at least for a bit, so he could wander off to sleep. Eventually he found a place, and he carefully closed the compartment door before finding a corner by the window. He stowed his suitcase and wrapped his robe around him, concealing the wand grasped firmly in his hand.

As students and their families arrived, Remus was off to sleep—hoping his dreams would include anything, _anyone_ but Sirius Black.


	2. Chapter 2

After the eventful train ride to Hogwarts, all Remus wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep. He wasn't all that hungry, and felt he'd benefit more from a bit of seclusion. Unfortunately for him, that would not be the case. He had to attend the beginning of term feast. Remus limped a bit over to the empty chair by charms professor Filius Flitwick. He felt the stares of other professors: not angry or hateful, mostly just curious and kind. That is, except for one Severus Snape, who simply glared at Remus.

"Severus," Remus nodded kindly. Snape pressed his lips firmly together in a grown, not responding. Remus simply sighed and stared at his plate. Why would he have expected anything else. He existed, which was bad enough for Snape, but he also had the job Snape always wanted. He only hoped his monthly potion wouldn't be poisoned as a result. Remus had hoped for a moment that maybe he could patch things up with his old classmate—it wasn't as if either of them had many friends. It wouldn't hurt to be friends with each other.

"Remus!" Flitwick exclaimed: "It's great to see you. And a _professor_! I am unsurprised; you were always an excellent student."

Remus smiled. "Thank you, prof—Filius," he corrected, still trying to get over the fact that he was now a peer of the people he once considered so far above him. "I'm happy to be here."

"I heard it took some convincing," Flitwick said. Remus smiled sheepishly. "None of us mind, Remus. In fact, it makes me prouder to have had you as a student, all you've gone through…Welcome back," Flitwick smiled as the feast began. Remus stared out into the crowd of students, trying to find Harry to give him a light smile. Albus then introduced him to the school, Remus standing up rather shakily and feeling Snape's cold glare on him. Then, it was time to eat. The new professor was still not quite hungry, but he attempted to eat some mashed potatoes, about to put the spoon to his mouth when—

"A shabby reception for a shabbier half-man…Will only get worse, I'm afraid. Sooner or later they'll know what you are—and _how close_ you were to…_him_," Snape drawled. Remus narrowed his eyes, dropping his spoon to his plate. Several of the other professors turned to watch the two. Remus looked down the table to Severus, doing his best to force out a smile.

"I have an uncanny knack for putting my trust in the wrong people, yes. I wouldn't think that would be too foreign a concept for you," Remus quipped. Severus pursed his lips. Remus simply smiled and turned back to his food, playing with the potatoes as he tried his best to hold back his emotion. He knew _Snivellus_ couldn't tell anyone outright, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do his best to let it slip. It was the comment on Sirius Black that hurt him the most. Flitwick seemed to sense this.

"I wouldn't worry about Severus. Besides, none of us saw the boy as a killer. If love is blinding, I suppose we all had a soft spot for him."

_Not Severus, _Remus thought darkly. Perhaps if Remus had paid more attention to the near expulsion of his friend in fifth year, he would have seen Sirius' true character. Severus had never liked the Marauders, but after that it just got worse. Maybe for good reason.

"Thank you, Filius," Remus smiled. But he had lost the slight appetite he had.

After the feast had ended, Remus was planning on going into his office to hide. He could read, go over lesson plans, and sleep the whole night away. He got up, and was about to slink away when:

"Remus!"

The young professor smiled. He knew that voice anywhere.

"Hello, Minerva," he began, turning around to see her. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"I wasn't sure you'd come," She said matter-of-factly. "We've spent years trying to get you back here."

"I had my reasons—good ones," Remus insisted. "Though I must say, Yorkshire was not keeping me quite as busy as I may have let on. Some of my best memories take place in this castle—I am glad to be back," He said truthfully. Minerva smiled.

"However long we have you, we are thankful. The past two professors in your position have been horrible, to put it mildly."

Remus snorted, looking around to see if anyone was listening on on their conversation. As it so happened, the two were now nearly alone in the Great Hall.

"Yes, I heard. Well, I can't promise I'll be much better…but I had to come this year. Harry needs to be able to protect himself for when he comes. James would've been furious with me if I didn't teach his son everything I could. I don't trust _Severus_ to take care of Harry, but if Dumbledore does..." He trailed off. Dumbledore's judgement meant everything to Remus.

Minerva looked at Remus sadly. "James wouldn't have liked _any_ of this—and neither do I, frankly. I can assure you Harry is well protected, but if there is anything you think I should know…" Minerva looked at Remus knowingly. He gulped but shook his head.

"No, nothing in particular I can think of that's important," Remus lied. _He's an unregistered Animagus and somewhere in the castle is a map where he can find Harry at any given moment._

"Then, that is settled. I know why you don't trust Severus—frankly, he doesn't trust you either."

"I don't know what he hates more—the fact that I nearly killed him, the fact that I was in love with the man who tried to kill him, or the fact that he's making me that new potion—which, I don't need, by the way—"

"Nonsense," Minerva interjected. "You're _getting_ that potion—and that's final. I can see it's helped. You can't blame yourself for what happened between you and Severus still," She insisted. "We've been over this."

"I know," Remus said a bit hoarsely. "But that doesn't make it hurt any less."

Minerva sighed. "Come with me, Mr. Lupin. We should talk somewhere more private."

Remus followed his former professor out of the Great Hall and over to the west wing of the castle. The two passed McGonagall's office, and Remus nearly opened his mouth to ask where they were going. Minerva sensed this and chuckled.

"You aren't in trouble, Remus. We can meet in _your office_—as colleagues, and dare I say as friends." Remus simply nodded. _My office…Merlin, if the boys could see me now. _It felt odd to him that _he_ had an office in this beloved institution. Minerva led Remus to a door, took out a key, and opened it up. The office was certainly not what he expected—it was already furnished, and even had a few personal touches.

"I took the liberty of searching through Argus' office to find some of your old things. I hope you don't mind…"

"It's brilliant," Remus said, eyes twinkling. The office wasn't much, but it had some old Zonko's things and a couple of confiscated notes, as well as some of James' and Sirius' belongings. The office looked a bit more like a lost and found, but Remus supposed that he fit in. _Lost and found…and perhaps still lost, _he mused.

"Er, shall we sit?" Remus asked, running his fingers across what he supposed was his desk. Minerva smiled tightly.

"Indeed."

Both professors took their seats—Remus behind his desk, and his old professor facing him. It was weird, to be sure, but somehow fitting. Remus looked like he was about to speak, but Minerva cut him off before he could start.

"I know that Sirius Black is an Animagus."

Remus' jaw dropped. How did she…

"Albus and I saw you boys…_practicing_ during fifth year. We saw no harm in it, and it seemed to be helping all of you stay out of trouble, so we let it slide. I had been hoping you would come clean, Remus. I expected _you_ to," Minerva said, a bit like she was reprimanding her former student. Remus gulped.

"Professor…I…"

"Minerva, please," McGonagall quipped. "I'm not your professor anymore. I assume that's part of why you came back, yes? You are clever—I assume you know that's how Sirius Black escaped Azkaban." Remus nodded.

"Minerva…I'm sorry," Remus said rather sadly. "I never asked them to do it—and I know I should have said something. That was never my strong suit—I couldn't quite tell my friends no." Minerva chuckled darkly. She knew that to be true. "I do believe that's how he escaped, and I'm sure that's how he will get into the castle—when he inevitably does. There's…something else," Remus added, looking a bit ashamed.

"Remus, if you have any information, I implore you—"

"It's a map," Remus spat. "We made a map—the _Marauder's Map_, we called it—and it shows the location of everyone in Hogwarts at all times. It got nicked from us some time seventh year, and I haven't seen it since. While I am responsible for most of the charms on it, Sirius knows exactly how to use it. He's going to use it to find Harry—I'm sure of it."

Minerva pursed her lips in thought. "This is grave indeed. And this map…you have no idea where it could be?" Remus shook his head.

"Filch—_Argus_," He corrected, "Took it from us. If it's in his office, I can help you find it. But I worry after all these years it's gotten into someone else's hands. There's an incantation you have to say to get it to work, otherwise the map insults you, but for a select few…" Remus sighed. "Sirius begged me to add some sort of a clause: if the map thinks you are worthy, it will help you open it. A certain _Mr. Moony_ writes in a scrawl nearly identical to my own and tells the next generation of troublemakers how to use the map. I think the plan was that our children, or any sort of heirs to our misfortunes, would be able to find it and pick up where we left off."

Minerva's eyes widened. This was certainly not the most dangerous thing the boys had done, but it was definitely up there.

"So, Sirius Black could have a map of exactly how to find Harry and avoid being seen doing so. I suppose there's no chance that Harry has found this map first?" Minerva asked. Remus simply shrugged.

"He seems like an honest boy…but I can't exactly find out how to ask him if he's seen it. While I'm sure he would be happy to know I was a good friend of his father's, I don't think it's wise to tell him just how close Sirius and I were. I want him to trust me," Remus added, "As pathetic as that sounds."

"It's not pathetic," Minerva assured him. "But, have you ever thought…and I mean this only as something I myself have been thinking about…Could it be possible that Sirius didn't do what we think he did?" Remus froze.

"_Don't_," He said testily. "Don't try and defend him. He murdered, what, 13 people? And _Peter_?" Remus asked breathlessly.

"Remus…you knew him better than anyone—"

"And even I couldn't tell. Merlin, don't you think I've played this over and over in my head? He can't be innocent," Remus insisted. "_If_ he's innocent…It means I abandoned him. My best friend, my...well, whatever he was to me. In my mind, we are thoroughly done. I've had this conversation a million times with my father—if he's innocent, I failed the man I love. I let him rot in a cell for 12 years. How could I live with myself if that were true?" Remus asked, not exactly expecting a response.

"He wouldn't blame you. I can assure you—Black and the Potters suspected—"

"I know what they suspected," Remus spat, turning his gaze angrily. "I can't lie to you, what he was offering to us…to _werewolves_, it was tempting. Even to me, I..." Remus sighed. "I don't blame my friends for that—I was deeply undercover, it was hard to separate _myself_ at times." He admitted. "That is different. But to leave an innocent man stranded?"

"He wouldn't blame you," Minerva assured Remus. "_Look at me_. I don't know what to think—by all accounts, Sirius does seem as guilty as can be. But I have learned that things are often not what they seem."

"What," Remus scoffed, "You think _Peter_ could have done it, and then offed himself in the process? Merlin, the boy was never good at magic—you know this."

"All I'm saying," Minerva began, "is that things are not always as they seem. You loved Sirius—do you think he could be capable of something like this?"

"I loved Sirius during our fifth year, and you know what he did to me _then_," Remus said darkly. "_Snivellus_—Severus," he corrected, "Won't let me ever forget that. I won't say it was out of character for Sirius, but this is something entirely different. The man I thought I knew could never betray his friends. But maybe I didn't know him all that well," Remus said quietly.

"You still love him," Minerva said simply. "The way you talk about him—"

"I love the Sirius Black I thought I _knew_," Remus said, upset. "I can't stop, no matter how hard I try. Part of me believes I'll never stop. But I must, don't you see? And thinking—_knowing_—he's guilty is the only way to do that."

"There might be another way," Minerva said calmly. "Just…think about it. And if you find that map—do let me know. You do enjoy being here, don't you?"

Remus chuckled darkly. "Of _course_ I enjoy it here—all my best memories were made right in these very halls. They're just…What's the word…"

"Bittersweet?" Minerva suggested. "It's how I feel—I see the Weasley twins and see the Prewetts. I see Harry and see James." Remus nodded.

"Exactly. Bittersweet. A reminder of what we had…and what we have no longer. Still, I think it will do me loads of good being here," Remus added. "Certainly better than _Yorkshire_."

"I was surprised that you chose to live there," Minerva said. "After all, Lyall is in Surrey…How is he, by the way?"

"He's good, I suppose. Lonely. I visit…monthly. But I don't want to be a burden—Mum is gone, his siblings deserted him long ago…I _know_ he wants to see me," Remus insisted. "It's just difficult to imagine living with my father into my thirties. It's not what _I_ want, and I can't imagine it's what he wants either. He talks about you fondly, though," Remus said with a smile. "His 'dear Minnie,' is what he calls you." Minerva smiled.

"Lyall was, and still is, I assume, a unique man. And a great father. He would never say no to you, as I'm sure you know."

"I know," Remus said quietly. "But he's barely making ends meet as is—another mouth to feed, healers to pay for…It's nothing he wouldn't agree to, but nothing I would want to impose." Minerva rolled her eyes.

"You Lupin men...always worried about _imposing_. Your father insisted that he was imposing when it was I who begged him to let you come here. Dumbledore was of course as eager as I was, but we both thought it best for a family friend to convince Lyall. I suppose he never told you that?" Remus shook his head.

"No…He seemed to leave that part out," He said, smiling softly. "Yet it sounds very Dad. He was, of course, thrilled when I took this job. His own son—a professor," Remus scoffed. "Seemingly impossible."

"But you're here now," Minerva interjected. "And we at Hogwarts would have it no other way." The professor got up from her chair and straightened out her robes. "I should be going—it is getting late, and I must assume you are exhausted." Remus shrugged, which Minerva took as her cue to go.

"It's always wonderful to see you, Remus," She said kindly.

"And you too, _Professor_."

Remus watched his old professor leave, and slumped into his chair, thinking. He _was_ happy to be here. It would just take some adjustments. He glanced at a picture on his desk that Minerva had set out for him—it was a picture of young Sirius rustling Remus' hair, smiling and looking right into the camera as Remus blushed. It caused the new professor to smile. Innocent or not, Sirius black would always have a place in his heart. Too tired to move to his bed, Remus slumped into his chair further and at least could think of one thing he would be able to do to help: find the map. And he knew just which twins it may have found.


	3. Chapter 3

Remus had struggled with how he felt about the Wolfsbane potion for a few months. He was, of course, eternally grateful for the potion and the control it allowed him to keep. He was able to retain his human mind for the entire month—something he never thought would happen. The transformation still was painful, of course, but less so. He didn't scream or howl, it just felt uncomfortable and jolting in every possible way. Of course, this was an improvement over the years that had come before, but Remus couldn't help but feel wrong about it all. After all, he was still a werewolf. Human mind or not, he did not enjoy being forcibly transformed into something he wasn't 99% of the time. It wasn't horrible to transform alone, but sitting alone with his thoughts, as calm as they were, while not being able to do anything about them…it was disquieting. Once, Remus had been thinking about grading (and for a moment forgot he was a wolf) and attempted to grab a quill, only to realize that he didn't have _hands_. He couldn't speak, couldn't write, all he could do was sit in his office underneath the blanket he would eventually fall asleep under. It was almost worse, in a sense, that he knew every bit of what was happening.

Luckily for Remus, this night he wasn't going to be alone. He had, begrudgingly, allowed for Minerva McGonagall to come see him. Remus felt ashamed: he hadn't wanted anyone he respected and looked up to so much to see him for what he was. Minerva understood, however, and told Remus it wasn't all that much different from being an Animagus. There were times where she too felt strange in a body that was both her own and not, and she certainly had a more eloquent way of discussing it than the Marauders had. Peter had nothing to say, James simply talked about prancing, and Sirius even went to far as to say he felt no different at all. It was only in talking to Minerva that Remus felt somewhat content with his situation.

At around half past eleven, Minerva walked up to Remus' office. The door, of course, was locked but the werewolf had told her how to get in. Whispering under her breath, the door opened and creaked a bit, allowing Minerva to step into the office. She quickly closed the door, and a set of two large amber eyes opened and stared straight ahead in the darkness. The head of Gryffindor paused for a moment, assessing whether or not the stare was friendly. She even tried to see Remus beneath those eyes, though it was quite difficult to see the man she had known for so many years.

"Remus?" She said softly. "Do you mind if I turn on the lights?"

The wolf blinked a few times. Minerva understood.

"Blink once for yes…twice for no." Two blinks. Minerva smiled and with a wave of her wand, the lamp on Remus' desk flicked on. The light illuminated the wolf—a large creature, with a shorter and more human-like snout, but otherwise most definitely a wolf. The fur near its head was a light brown, with the rest of the body starting to grey as the fur neared the tail. All said, it wasn't not Remus. Like most Animagi, there was some bit of the human within clearly visible in the wolf. Minerva took it all in and descended into a seated position on the floor, dusting off her robes. A slight whimper emerged from the wolf, and Minerva chuckled.

"I can surely sit down on the ground, Remus," she said quietly. "I'm not _that_ old." The wolf exhaled sharply from his nose, which Minerva took as a laugh.

"Now, this is quite alright. I get to speak with you without you interrupting me. I know your talk with the Weasley twins did not go as expected—I must say that is quite normal around here. The two are rarely, if ever, serious, and they get much joy from messing around with their professors. I would expect you understand this quite well."

The wolf exhaled sharply, and his eyes darted from one end of the room to another—perhaps a wolfish eyeroll. Earlier that week, after the boys had shot Firewhiskey-laced spitballs in class, he called them into his office for a talking-to. Of course, he had the mistake of asking the boys how exactly they managed to _get_ Firewhiskey (hoping they would admit to knowing a secret passage or two), which prompted them say: "_A magician never reveals his secrets_." It was a solid effort, but ultimately failed.

"This doesn't mean that they don't have the map—if what you say is true, about it trying to find new owners, I would say they are likely candidates. Still, they would be loath to mention its existence, and if you told them you created it, I have no doubt that they would undermine your authority at every turn. They are, however, very good boys, and like the rest of the Weasley family they are devoted to young Harry—more on him later," she added. "If there was a reason for Harry to need the map…it is possible that they could show it to him. Harry would be much more likely to open up to you."

The wolf narrowed his eyes. Remus didn't know why Harry would need the map—Minerva had already told Harry that Albus had given him James' cloak.

"Yes, I know," Minerva began, "The boy hardly needs the map when he has the cloak—which begs the question as to why _you_ needed it," she mused. The wolf snorted to get her attention. Remus wanted to mention the plethora of hidden passageways also on the map, which could become very useful—map or not. In fact, many of these passageways led into Hogsmeade itself. The boys would use them to go to Hogsmeade when it was not allowed. However, unable to speak, the wolf could only sit and twitch. Minerva noticed this and sighed.

"I know you have something to tell me, but perhaps just think about it—I mustn't get too involved with the affairs of my students, however as an old family friend…well, you can do things I cannot. You cannot manipulate him or anyone else, but you must know more about the map and its usages. What I can do is tell you everything I know about the boy."

The wolf rested his head on his paws and nodded his head. Minerva took this as a sign to continue. "Despite all appearances, the boy is quite different from James and Lily—he grew up under-confident, much like a certain werewolf I know, yet without the love of a family. Those people," she spat, "Are horrible, though I must trust Albus in what he is doing keeping him there. As such, Harry loathes going home and is unable to stay in contact with any part of the magical world during that time. How he gets anything done or manages to get here is beyond me—though this year, after blowing up his aunt—"

The wolf barked, widened its eyes after hearing the noise he had made, and laid its head back down. Minerva smiled.

"No, he didn't blow her up—that was a poor choice of words. He merely inflated her for a matter of hours. Anyway, he somehow managed to find our Minister of Magic and ended up with the Weasley family, though without his ability to go to Hogsmeade. He begged me to sign his form, but as I am not his legal guardian, the only one who could possibly sign it is, well, Mr. Black." The wolf emitted a low guttural sound, and Minerva continued. "Of course, you know everything that happened on the train. I must admit, even for Mr. Potter, that was rather frightening. I am certainly glad you were there," she said with a smile. "You've always been quite gifted at Defense. I would like it very much if you taught him to conjure a Patronus."

The wolf whimpered and pointed his head in the direction of his desk. Minerva stood and turned to look and saw a number of books spread across it, one being for sixth year defense students. That particular book was closed, but the notes next to it told Minerva all she needed to know.

_Patronus, complex. Buy chocolate. Practice. Harry memories—no photos?_

Remus was nothing if not a note-taker. Minerva smiled and took her seat once more.

"I see you've already been thinking the same thing. The sooner you can find a way to help him, the better. I worry about young Mr. Potter in a way I have worried about few students—you among them. He is, of course, still his parents' son. While I knew James was kind to you, I know he could be…difficult. Harry has a bit of lip, but he is very much his mother's son. I know you and Lily were close—I imagine you will see the resemblance. Still, he is reckless and finds himself in a great deal of trouble and would do anything for his friends—including risk his own life."

"As I'm sure you are aware, Severus is not exactly fond of anything even remotely related to you and your friends," Minerva began. The wolf simply gave her a knowing look. "He gives the boy a hard time, though Albus insists…" She sighed. "It's not my place. Regardless, that relationship is challenging at best. I am not sure if this is useful information for you or simply irritating, but it could maybe—"

The wolf snorted. Remus didn't want to hear ill of Severus any more—not when he had made him the very potion keeping him from attacking his former professor. Minerva eyed the wolf before continuing.

"Right, well, I can't say I quite understand what you are getting at but I will change topics. Now, I assume you could use a bit of good news. I know it has been just a little under a month but your students adore you, Remus. Certainly the best Defense professor we've had in…Merlin…" she paused a bit. "I suppose since your third year professor, Erwin Dedalus?" The wolf almost seemed to grin, and Minerva smiled. "Yes, well, you are certainly better with the students than he was. The detentions you and your friends received from that class…though I suppose it was not without cause. Did your friends ever tell you about the time they derailed his class?"

The wolf's ears perked up. They certainly had not. Minerva chortled.

"Oh, Remus…"

The professor proceeded to explain to her former student that while he had been absent while his class had supposedly been supposed to learn about werewolves, the Marauders decided no such thing was necessary. They had shifted the entire conversation from discussing symptoms of lycanthropes and ways to identify them towards their humanity and had proceeded to become so disruptive that Dedalus had to cancel class. No student truly learned about werewolves that day or any other. So, when Dedalus received an essay on werewolves from a certain Mr. Lupin, who hadn't even been in class, he beamed and told the rest of the professors how wonderful of a professor he was that his students completed assigned reading even outside of his lecture.

"Of course," Minerva began with a small smile, "I was clearly a bit stunned that he had so clearly failed to identify a werewolf in his own class, but I suppose he was more caught up in his own self-image to really notice."

The wolf stared ahead, motionless. Remus could believe his friends had done such a thing. It would explain why no one else had figured out his little secret…but it was incredibly risky—someone _could_ have caught on, if they had paid attention, and Remus was lucky the only person who did was Lily Evans.

"Oh Remus, it was really quite sweet of the boys. In fact, they actually learned quite a bit thanks to you. About twice a month, Sirius Black—"

Minerva noticed the wolf recoil and she scowled. "Honestly, Remus. His name is going to come up—you mustn't shy away from it every time. As I was saying," she continued, "About twice a month, he would actually take notes in my class—no doubt to give to you. Even James and Peter paid more attention in class those days. You were always meant to teach—it's wonderful to have you here."

The wolf gazed at Minerva with sleepy, yet happy, eyes. She smiled.

"I can see you are tired—go ahead, fall asleep if you want. I can keep you company here," she insisted. Remus placed his head on the floor and felt his eyes grow heavy. Minerva continued talking to him about Harry and his friends until the wolf was sound asleep. Positive that Remus would not wake, Minerva tidied his office a bit and gazed at the room smiling. That little eleven-year-old boy she once knew would never have imagined what she saw now: a sleepy, peaceful wolf in his very own office teaching. Walking towards the door, Minerva made sure she had all of her things and with a soft whisper of '_Nox_,' she extinguished the lights and let the wolf sleep the rest of the night, closing and locking the door behind her.

* * *

The following morning, Remus awoke to a knock on his office door. He groaned and pulled the cover over himself. It was so early—the clock on the wall told him it wasn't even six. The knock repeated.

"Mr. Lupin! You let us in right now!"

Remus' eyes opened. Poppy. And Poppy would have something with her to help his aches. Remus shakily grabbed his wand from off of the corner of his desk, and waved his wand at the door, opening the lock. He pulled his blanket around him like a cloak, finding the strength to sit in his desk chair and truly nothing more than that at the moment. Poppy and Minerva walked in and Remus smiled softly as they closed the door behind them.

"Good morning," he croaked, couching a bit. "Minerva, I—" He began coughing again. Poppy rolled her eyes and rushed over with the glass of something she was holding.

"Now you drink this, Remus, and not another word until you do…the fact that you moved to your desk even though I told you not to…" She shook her head. "You were much better behaved as a child. Now," she stuck the glass out for Remus to grab, "Drink."

Remus chuckled and reached for the glass and held it in both his hands to control his shaking. He drank it in one gulp and made a sort of scrunched up face, crinkling his nose. Poppy rolled her eyes.

"The least you could do is _pretend_ you are a grown man," she insisted. "What made you think that would taste good?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Remus said with a smile, his voice already sounding better. "Thank you, Poppy, this is just what I needed. Please," he said, motioning to the two chairs in front of his desk, "Have a seat." Poppy shook her head.

"I must be off, I'm afraid…That blasted Malfoy boy is quite getting on my nerves. Minerva wanted to speak with you though," Poppy added, collecting the empty glass from Remus and heading to the door. "I will see you this afternoon, yes?" She asked, though it was less of a question. Remus nodded.

"Of course, Poppy. Thank you," he replied with a smile. Minerva sat across from Remus and Poppy left, closing the door behind her.

"Remus, I—"

Remus held up his hand. "I was unable to say the slightest word all night last night, so I hope you'll excuse me if it's my turn to speak. I first would like to thank you for stopping by, even if I wasn't much company—I appreciate it greatly, and it helps to not be simply alone with my thoughts," he smiled. "And don't say it wasn't anything, or it wasn't anything I wouldn't do—please just accept my thanks. I feel relatively wonderful this morning, all things considered, and that is due in no small part to your presence. Now," He continued, "About what you were saying about Harry needing the map…"

"You've thought of something?" Minerva asked calmly. Remus nodded.

"You say he can't go to Hogsmeade—he'll be doing everything in his power to try and visit anyway. The map, among other things, details many different passages there that the boys and I would sneak out and take for drinks or when they came back from our…midnight romps," he smiled. "Now, if Fred and George know this about Harry, my guess is that they will give him the map. I believe I have the twins this afternoon. If I let slip that absolutely no older students may sneak younger students into Hogsmeade…well…" Remus grinned. "That may just do it."

Minerva pursed her lips, which then formed a thin smile. "Well, if that happens, you do let me know, Remus."


	4. Chapter 4

Feeling immensely better after a rather nasty full moon—fear of Sirius making it to Harry within the castle making him quite ill at ease—Remus felt at least somewhat prepared to teach Harry how to conjure a Patronus. It was going to be difficult to do so without Remus performing the spell itself, but he hoped Harry wouldn't ask too many questions as to why his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor could not produce an actual, corporal Patronus. Truth was, Remus was quite good at the charm and to practice teaching, Remus had spent the better part of an hour taking notes on his own form and method of casting his own Patronus. But it made him quite bitter. His happiest memories all involved Sirius Black, and while they were quite strong and worked most excellently, it was hard for Remus to remember how happy he had been compared to his life for the past twelve years, and even now.

"_Expecto Patronum_," he said, almost lazily. A wolf—the animal, not Remus himself—appeared from his wand. The professor grimaced slightly and waved his wand, the wolf vanishing. "Stupid, bloody thing…" he grumbled. Remus didn't care for his Patronus' form much, and seeing it certainly wasn't putting him in a very good mood—he was already on edge.

Remus Lupin was worried about Harry using the Patronus Charm. The boy was talented—incredibly so. The professor wasn't worried so much about Harry's use of magic, but he was worried about the charm simply due to the fact that it required a strong and happy memory. Remus was by no means overflowing with happy memories, but he was certain he had more than Harry. Skilled at magic or not, you can't create a pleasant childhood out of thin air. The werewolf thought bitterly about Harry's past: the terrible muggles he lived with (Remus had met Lily's sister once—he was not a fan), his utter lack of parents, the fact that there had been no one from his parents' world there to care for him. The last thought stung—Remus could have been there. Not to raise Harry, but maybe to see him every once in a while. Of course, he assumed Harry's aunt and uncle would ask why he couldn't just take the boy for good. Remus couldn't imagine that conversation going very well:

_"Sorry Vernon, I can't take him this week: got to turn into a werewolf and all. Don't worry: if I bite you, it won't turn you into a _monster_—you'll just _die_."_

Remus snorted at the thought of him showing up to the Durselys, pacing around his office. He supposed there wasn't much he could have done after all, but it hurt all the same. Walking over to his desk, Remus opened a drawer and pulled out a photo of him with James and Lily at their wedding, smiling fondly at the memory. He had thought about showing Harry pictures of his parents, photos of him with them as a baby—to help conjure up some happy memories—but that would raise more questions than Remus was prepared to answer. He couldn't exactly tell Harry _why_ it was that he hadn't been around, nor why Harry couldn't live with him. Werewolf or not, Remus wasn't legally allowed to take the boy.

_His godfather is still alive._

Remus shook his head sadly. "I fear I've failed you both," he told the photo. "You'd hardly recognize me—it's _cowardly_ not to tell him everything about you. It was ridiculous of me to think he was better off without me," he whispered. "I hope you could forgive me—for everything."

Was it his fault Harry didn't have many happy memories? Maybe not directly, no; but it certainly wasn't _not_ his fault. It was also not _not_ his fault that Harry hadn't been taught to defend himself earlier, his fault Sirius Black was on the loose, his fault he could find Harry…

Remus' eyes shifted to a photo on his desk—him and young Sirius Black. The boy was hardly recognizable now—Azkaban had changed Sirius, from the looks of it in the papers. "Something's not right, Padfoot," Remus whispered. "You _couldn't _have. But what does that make me? _More_ cowardly, for not bothering to see you?" The professor scoffed, flipping the photo down onto the desk so he wouldn't have to watch himself smile lovingly at his old friend.

"Can't even face you in a photograph," Remus muttered. "Some Gryffindor _I _am—I'm not brave, I'm scared. There's nothing brave _about_ me anymore."

At that moment, Remus' eyes shot to the clock—Merlin, was it already 7:50. He had told Harry he would meet him at eight. The Professor rushed to grab the trunk with the Boggart inside and raced from his office to the History of Magic classroom.

* * *

Harry had left and Remus sat, confused, on the cold classroom floor. How had he known that Sirius and James were friends? Remus thought back to all his conversations with Harry and realized that he certainly never told him. Perhaps it was Severus—though Remus dared not to ask. They had already gotten into a row over the potion master's day of 'substitute teaching.'

_"You had no right," Remus growled, eyes narrowed. "That is my class. This is my job. I don't care if you don't like it—we both know I won't be here much longer."_

_"The students deserve to know about werewolves," Snape drawled. "A subject you were _clearly _not—"_

_"I was going to cover it later!" Remus shouted, impatient. "Not _now_—and certainly not the way _you've_ done it. How would _you_ feel, Severus? Walking into your classroom, hearing I had assigned homework to your students on how to identify and kill slimey, big-nosed—"_

_"You wouldn't, because I'm not a—"_

_"Monster?" Remus finished, scoffing. "Check your arm, _Snivellus_. Dumbledore might trust you, but you are making it _very difficult_ for me to extend that same level of trust to you," he said coolly. Snape drew his lips into a snarl. _

_"The feeling is mututal, _Moony_," he muttered. _

_"_Don't_," Remus said testily. "You are _not _my friend, you don't get to call me—"_

_"Best not to be your friend—they all end up dead or in prison. Even the ones you love the most," he smirked. Remus huffed.  
_

_"Shut up!" Remus yelled. "Shut up, and you so much as step one toe out of line—"_

_"You'll kill me?" Snape asked, sneering. "You've already tried that."_

Remus, absolutely furious, had stomped out of Snape's office and back to his own where he would go and…let off steam. This involved a great deal of breaking quills and angry journaling.

Since that day, Remus refused to speak to his colleague about anything other than potions. Perhaps Harry heard it from Snape, perhaps from somewhere else. Either way, the question of whether or not he was Sirius' friend hurt. Remus couldn't lie to James' and Lily's son—but he could omit much of the truth. Eventually, the professor knew he would be out of a job once again, and perhaps he could tell Harry more—when Sirius was safely behind bars. For the time being, what Harry didn't know about his relationship with his parents and, for that matter, with Sirius, would not hurt the boy.

But Snape wouldn't tell Harry about Sirius and his father without mentioning Remus—he hated the werewolf nearly as much, if not more than, James. No, it wasn't _Severus,_ Remus thought. But _who_?

Unless they didn't _tell_ Harry—he overheard. That blasted invisibility cloak—he knew Harry had it. He may have heard something over Christmas break from a professor—Remus was indisposed and had no idea what had been going on, though he did hear something about a new broom that may or may not have been delivered by Sirius. Remus nearly laughed when he heard—if anything was more Sirius Black than buying James' son Quidditch supplies, the werewolf couldn't think of it. Remus had to assume that his colleagues wouldn't be so daft as mention the Marauders anywhere they thought a student—or Remus, for that matter—could hear. Remus' eyes lit up.

"Hogsmeade…but Harry can't—" Remus cut off his own ramblings. Harry had it—he had the _map_. He _must _have—how else could he have known how to slip into the nearby village undetected and with any sense of direction? If Harry had the map, Remus felt sure he could coax the truth out of the boy. He would also be mildly excited to see how it was holding up after all the years—_he_ had been the one to do must of the grunt work, as a gift to his friends for their efforts in keeping him happier and healthier than he had ever been during or around the full moon. It had been Sirius who came up with the opening incantation, however. The Marauders had always made 'solemn swears' when something was important, and thanks to Mr. Padfoot there would be a permanent marker of this. Remus smiled slightly. James had worked the phrase into his wedding—Sirius said it whenever the werewolf had tried to break up with him or in any other way end their relationship: _"Moony, I solemnly swear you are driving me bonkers—shut up and let's snog!"_ was an actual phrase Sirius had uttered on more than one occasion. Even Peter managed to work it on sometimes. Remus was reminded again of Severus' words: his best friends ended up dead or murderers. There was no in between. _Maybe the greasy slimeball is right_, Remus mused. In that case, he should stay as far away from Harry as possible—not that the boy would _likely_ kill or be killed, of course, but as a precaution. Remus, however, cast this idea aside. It was ridiculous to be so superstitious, and the circumstances surrounding his friends were certainly different. Besides, Harry needed more help if he was going to learn to defend himself, and Remus began pondering whether it would be appropriate to teach the boy a few less-than-defensive skills: just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter was certainly an interesting boy. If Remus had to pick just one thing he had learned so far from teaching at Hogwarts that had really stuck in his head, this would be it. The professor had told Harry that the fact that he was scared of Dementors meant that he was scared of fear itself—not death, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, not snakes or spiders or even moons. If something encompassed bravery more than that, Remus Lupin certainly hadn't heard of it. He had a sinking feeling, however, that is wasn't just fear that Harry was scared of, but fear of something he could not face. What that 'something' was, though, Remus could not say. The boy had lived through things more terrible than Remus could ever imagine and was making such great progress with his Patronus that the professor felt the boy could truly do anything he set his mind to. It made him feel absolutely cowardly for being afraid of something he had lived through hundreds of times.

Remus also did not doubt that Harry could surpass the magical abilities of both his parents in a year or two at the rate he was going. He would expect that to give Harry confidence—the same that it had given James all those years ago. For all the boy's achievement, however, Remus noticed that he didn't seem to think he was doing much at all. Within Harry there seemed to exist a drive to do and be more than anyone expected of him. It was a great deal of pressure to put on a young boy. He wondered what a different boy he could have been had his parents lived to raise him. Would he be happier? Remus was sure of it. More confident? Absolutely. Remus had few but fond memories of the Potters raising their son. They all started a similar way.

_"He's a real piece of work, Moony," James would say with bags under his eyes if he was the one to answer Remus' knock at the door. "Cries all night, sleeps half the day—won't stop tormenting poor Lilypad's cat, either. He's crawling now, and he somehow manages to get from one side of the room to the other while I blink my eyes—or maybe I doze off. It's so hard to tell, I'm exhausted all of the time. But it's absolutely brilliant."_

Remus had, on occasion, come to watch the little one while James and Lily slept. If Sirius wasn't on a mission, he'd come too. Peter didn't come as often, though the werewolf was sure this was due to his friend's well-documented fear of small children.

_"You're so good with him," Lily would say. "You're so calm and you talk to him like you would anyone else: 'Harry, please don't play with my hair—there isn't much of the good stuff left. Take some grey out if you must.' I heard that the other day, Remus, and nearly doubled over laughing."_

The most fun were the times James and Lily invited him and Sirius over for dinner. They would set Harry up in his little high chair, food dripping all over his face, as the group would chat about whatever was going on that week.

_"So, Remus gets quite upset when I leave the dishes out—"_

_"It's not hard to clean them, Padfoot. It's honestly just a wave of a wand—"_

_"But it's effort, my dear Moony—Oh did you hear that?"_

_The group turned around, hearing nothing but some gurgling from the resident infant. Sirius smiled with that wolfish grin of his that Remus missed so much:_

_"It was Harry: he agrees with me!"_

Remus had dozens of those little moments—Harry had none. And he had only one person to blame for that.

* * *

While lessons with Harry had gone exceedingly well, Remus was still performing less-than-admirably on the 'find the map' front. Minerva had already asked him that week for any news and Remus, no further along, had to disappoint her. The students had already gone to Hogsmeade once and Remus knew Harry hadn't gone with them since the two had spoken in his office. The next trip was coming up, but it was still entirely possible that Remus was wrong and the Prewett twins—_No, _he corrected, _The Weasley twins_—didn't have the map after all, and hadn't given it to Harry, and the boy had used only the cloak to get into Hogsmeade—which, Remus had to admit, was just another assumption he had made. He didn't _know _that Harry had gone to Hogsmeade to overhear information on his godfather. All of this was based off assumptions, and Remus knew well the old muggle phrase about what these assumptions made him: an utter ass.

Perhaps, Remus mused, it had fallen into the hands of some lesser-known pranksters. Or, more darkly, perhaps it was already in the clutches of Sirius Black. He had already attempted to break into the dorms once, and Remus knew his old friend wouldn't be stopped after merely failing once. That wasn't how Sirius Black operated: he would try, try, and try again until he got what he wanted. Remus had a great deal of experience with this. Sirius would never walk away from an unfinished or 'rudely interrupted' prank. Nor would he, as a young man, listen to Remus telling him it was over between them for the first, second, third…however many times the young werewolf had tried to convince his friend that he was not dating material. _Like a dog, he always came back_, Remus thought morosely.

He had been doing all this thinking on the walk from his office to the Great Hall. Bittersweet memories were no alternative to a healthy meal, and Remus entered for dinner to eat with several of his colleagues. He had been particularly thrilled to see Hagrid teaching: the two had gotten along when Remus was a student and he had always felt an affinity for the large groundskeeper. Natural outcasts were one of his areas of expertise and greatest compassion.

"Good evening, Rubeus," greeted Lupin, the name 'Rubeus' still sitting oddly on his tongue after so many years of 'Hagrid.'

"Evenin', Remus," Hagrid replied, his plate of food perhaps larger than the werewolf's head. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," Remus smiled as he took his seat. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw one of his favorite dishes. "Those are…lamb chops, yes?" He asked, feeling his mouth salivate. He hadn't had lamb chops done right since his own childhood.

"Er…I believe so," Hagrid responded. "'M no' sure, t'all looks good to me," he grinned. Remus chuckled. It certainly beat the mashed turnips he made back home in Yorkshire.

"Dementors haven't been causing too much trouble for you, have they?" Asked Remus kindly. "I've heard they've been out where they shouldn't be…"

"Yeh, well they 'aven't been so terrible. Dumbledore's been a good 'elp, he 'as, but 'e's busy yeh see…." Hagrid shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. Remus looked around and saw that Albus wasn't at dinner that night: clearly he was occupied. Hagrid was no fan of the Dementors roaming about the castle, as he had actually had more than a few close encounters with the Dementors when he was sent to Azkaban. Seeing them on the grounds brought back terrible memories of his time in prison and they affected him greatly. The groundskeeper also had no real way to defend himself when they did come, which Remus knew. The werewolf placed a hand on his friend's arm and smiled.

"You ever need help, you let me know. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

_It's my fault, after all. They wouldn't need to be here if Sirius had been able to escape…_Remus bit his upper lip.

The evening continued and Remus ate as many lamb chops as he could stomach. He wasn't sure when he would get them again, and so he savored every last bite. The feast began to end, and various professors got up to leave, including Hagrid who gave Remus a strong smile before heading back to his hut. Remus himself was about to get up when he heard a young voice.

"Professor Lupin?"

The sandy-haired werewolf turned to see Neville Longbottom. He smiled: the boy reminded Remus so much of his parents.

"Mr. Longbottom," he began, standing up to see his former student. "What is troubling you?"

Neville clearly looked embarrassed and Remus gave him an understanding look. "We can talk in my office, if you'd prefer somewhere more private," he suggested. Neville nodded fervently.

"Yes, sir. I'd like that very much."

Remus collected his things and gestured with his hand that Neville should lead the way out of the Great Hall. The two began walking to his office without speaking until Remus broke the silence.

"Professor Sprout and I are very impressed with your Herbology skills, Neville. It was never my strongest area—that and potions," he added with a smile. Neville managed to smile weakly.

"It just…makes sense to me, is all. But I'm rather rubbish at potions…"

"You don't need to be good at everything," Remus assured the boy. "I certainly never was. Defense was always my best subject—and I've never had to make a potion in my life."

Neville perked up at this. "Really? You've…you've never had to?"

"I've wanted to," Remus said a bit darkly. He would have loved to be able to have the money and skill to make a Wolfsbane potion every month. "But it's important to know our strengths. If we tap into them, we can help make a difference together. I daresay none of your classmates are as gifted in Herbology as you, from the sounds of it. You never know when that might come in handy."

"Even Harry?" Neville asked, stopping in front of Remus' office. The professor chuckled.

"I have heard no praises of Harry in Herbology—that's reserved for you only. Merlin knows his father was terrible at the subject," Remus drawled. "Absolutely butchered care for this one fungi we were working with and it stunk up the entire common room—"

"But fungi are _easy_!" Neville protested. Remus chuckled.

"Yes, they are—for _you_. You've got a calling Neville, and I suggest you follow it and see where it leads you."

Remus opened the door to his office and ushered Neville inside. He took a seat at his desk, flicking his wand at the chair in front of it to pull out a seat for his student. Both Gryffindors took their seats, but before Remus could say anything—

"If you knew Harry's dad, you must've known my parents, right?"

Remus paused for a moment, deciding how to continue. Yes, he had known Frank and Alice quite well. He had considered them good friends and amazingly kind people.

"Yes," he said at last. "I know them well, they were my year in school."

"You _knew_ them, you mean," Neville whispered. Remus shook his head.

"No, Neville, I know them—they might not be who I remember, but they are and have always been exceptional people who loved very strongly. Your father was quite good at herbology as well," he smiled. "Heard I had a bit of a nasty rabbit at home—used to scratch me up, you see. Gave me some magical carrots he had grown himself to calm it down. Did so without prompting, I might add—just out of the goodness of his heart."

"He did?" Neville looked astonished. "Gran never mentioned that…Doesn't seem to like my interest in Herbology much…"

"It might be a bit painful for her," Remus insisted. "It is jolting to see the traits of our loved ones in their children."

"They didn't work, then," Neville mumbled. "I mean, you still seem to have…no offense…"

"Oh, none taken," Remus brushed off. "I was a clumsy child, fell into the brambles behind my house once," he lied. "But the carrots worked like a charm—they had a property to them which calmed whoever ate it. I will say it worked on humans as well," he chortled, remembering the carrot soup he and his friends had made for a certain Slytherin that sent the greasy-haired boy to the infirmary for days to sleep of the effect.

Neville smiled sadly. "I worry about the Dementors. If…if they affect Harry so…I'm worried…"

"Harry has seen tragedies I daresay neither of us have," Remus stated. "They affect him more than others because of these horrors—not that we don't have our own," he added, "And you have every right to be worried about Dementors—everyone is, they're dreadful. But I wouldn't worry much."

"Harry has got it quite bad, doesn't he?" Neville whispered. "I mean, it's not fair is it? I've got my parents, sort of, and I've got Gran. He's got…I hear those muggle relatives of his are _nasty_."

Remus chuckled. He had met Harry's aunt and uncle once—and that had been more than enough for him. "They aren't wonderful people, Neville, I can assure you of that. But you don't need to downplay your own troubles—I'm not suggesting pity but acknowledging what is unfair helps us overcome it. We all feel things differently, and there's no real way of saying of who is feeling something 'right' or 'wrong,'" he insisted. "If you won't say it, I will: life has been unfair to you. But you've done magnificently and should be very proud. I know Frank and Alice are, somewhere."

Neville remembered this conversation for years to come, whether or not Remus knew it. The following weeks, the boy thought back to himself about it and decided he was good at Herbology, and he was quite proud of it. If he wasn't strong at potions, if Dementors terrified him, it didn't matter as much: it wouldn't make his parents any less proud.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late, and Remus was about to turn in for the night, but he still had a few more papers to finish grading. It was times like these that made the professor wonder why he assigned as much work as he did. He tried to think back to his own days as a student and how much work he was assigned then. Truthfully, it felt like a ton, but Remus didn't know if that was his teenage mind exaggerating or the fact that he was constantly playing catch-up due to monthly absences. That, and the fact that he often did work for his fellow Marauders.

_Remus, can you help me with my potions essay?_

_Moony, I've forgotten to do my homework for charms, it seems. Mind if I copy?_

_Remus, darling, you can do my Defense essay while I occupy myself down below your waist…_

He shuddered. It had always been Sirius, of course, who could get away with the most—often for reasons Remus had to try very hard not to blush about. Sirius Black could be very persuasive after all, and Remus had been a mere teenage boy. He could be more easily swayed back then by simple acts of love, or lust, or whatever it was. Unfair to the other boys? Perhaps. But as long as Remus _occasionally _helped them out, no one complained much at all.

"Maybe I'll give my students a break," he said quietly to himself. "After all, there isn't much time left this term. And I have my own work to do."

Remus was still no further along in finding the Map or Black, much to his dismay. Still, Harry had remained unharmed and had no run-ins with Black as far as the professor knew. He had talked with Minerva, who claimed this was an absolute record as far as uneventful years in Harry's time at Hogwarts. Remus felt his stomach churn—being hunted by a mass-murderer was uneventful? Still, he was glad Harry was safe. He only had one more paper to grade when—

_"LUPIN!"_

Remus jumped in his seat, the fireplace in his office roaring green. _What was that all about_? He wondered. Still, he thought it best to respond. He stood and closed his gradebook, grabbing some floo powder and stepping into the fireplace.

* * *

_That's not possible. _

The last words he said to Harry before the boy scurried out of the classroom. Remus gripped his desk strongly as he hunched over, peering at the parchment in front of him. It was the map, alright. And he had been right—Harry had it, and clearly the boy had figured out how to use it. Though, Remus chuckled darkly, it appeared the Potions Master had not. The map was still up to its old tricks, insulting those who tried to pry without permission. In that regard, the map was still working. But in another, Remus was sure it was not. He would've been more upset at the functionality of his charms had Harry not said what he said.

_Peter is dead,_ Remus assured himself. _Peter was killed by Sirius Black, twelve years ago. He is dead, the map is lying._

But the map never lied. Remus knew this. It was neither an object of dark magic, nor, as he had covered up, a Zonko's product. He had been very thankful that Ronald Weasley had been awake and able to act as expert testimony. Harry, on the other hand, clearly knew that the product wasn't a gag, and he knew what it did. Remus hadn't meant to scare the boy so badly, hadn't meant entirely to make him look so guilty, but he needed that map back. In Harry's hands, it could spell danger. At least Remus wouldn't use the map. He had no need to, he wasn't trying to sneak around anywhere. If he didn't use it, he couldn't lose it, and it wouldn't fall into the hands of a certain wild criminal…

But he was very, very curious. After all, the map would show him exactly where Sirius was, if he was still on the gorunds, which Remus expected he was. He could bring it to Minerva, the Ministry would capture Sirius, and all of this nonsense could come to a close. Remus might even be commended—imagine that, a _werewolf_ being honored by the Ministry. Perhaps he could even keep his job.

But for whatever reason, Remus did not budge. He still stood, hunched over the map. Because if he opened it and found that Sirius _was_ on the castle grounds, he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to turn in the map. It was one thing to lose the love of your life, twice. It was another entirely to be the one responsible for turning him in. Remus felt terrible enough trying to deal with his conflicted feelings. If he had to face Sirius, look him in the eyes as he was carted away…he wasn't sure how to move on from there.

Remus finally allowed himself to sit down, elbows on his desk, fingers rubbing his temples as he thought. If he opened the map and saw Sirius, he would have no choice but to turn him in. If he opened the map and saw Peter, it would mean the map was broken. Unless…

_No, _Remus thought forcefully. _No, it can't be._

Unless it was.

The curiosity was unbearable. Opening the map would mean one of two things: one, losing Sirius forever, as he would be forced to admit that his former friend was an Animagus, ending the man's chance at escape. Or two, knowing for a fact that Sirius hadn't killed Peter. And if he hadn't killed Peter, it meant that Peter had been hiding, likely as a rat. And why would Peter hide, and from whom? And if Sirius didn't kill Peter, did he kill the muggles? And if Sirius didn't kill the muggles, then who…

Remus shook his head. His thoughts were confusing, all over the place and yet hardly there, hardly formed. Harry had seemed so certain that Pettigrew was alive and in Hogwarts. Remus felt certain that he wasn't. Only the map could tell the professor for sure, but he frankly didn't know if he even wanted the answer. There was only one thing for Remus to do: go to bed. Look at the map tomorrow. Fresh day, fresh eyes, fresh start.

He snatched the map from the top of his desk, eyeing it very carefully.

"You're going to be the death of me, aren't you," he told the map softly. Unsurprisingly, the map didn't respond. Remus scoffed.

"Thought so. And here I am," he groaned, "Talking to a map. The years have certainly not been kind to my addled brain."

He folded the map carefully and buried it into the pocket of his robe. He would go to his chambers, and go to bed, waking up in the morning to find out for certain what had really happened all those years ago.

Sleep did not come for Remus that night. He hadn't expected it to. Instead, he rolled around in his sleep. Occasionally he fell into some sort of sleep, plagued by nightmares, only to wake again and toss and turn some more. Morning would come, and with it, the truth.


End file.
